Of Tea And Time
by Gabi217
Summary: Where Hatter ponders tea over passing time, going to his Alice. Fluffy, quick paced. Oneshot.


Of Tea and Time

Why, I disclaim! I do not own anything but the typos and the plot.

* * *

That stubborn Oyster.

He watches the Suits shove her through the Looking Glass with twisted hope and disappointment. She was smart, so smart! Couldn't she see it on his bloody face? Feel it in the air around the two of them? It was absolutely palpable in the very breaths they took - he had just _touched_ her for God's sakes - didn't she feel it? Feel him? He could've sworn she'd noticed it, or at least had a clue - she'd been at the ready to kiss him, before they'd been interrupted, and that was practically a day ago! She didn't _really_ fancy that slime Heart, did she? Could she, after all this time?

The git sauntered past him, flanked by a couple of Suits. He paused just after, turning back to Hatter after a hesitant moment.

"Say, why the long face, Hatter?" he drawls, tilting his head slightly. "I'm almost positive there's nothing to be grieved after what you've just helped happen."

Hatter shakes his head, glancing away from the new King. It's honorable and all, but the trust isn't there, heroics or not. He'd still lied to Alice, and if there was one thing he'd learned _about_ lying to Alice, it was that you simply didn't do it. It was like it wasn't fair - she was so keen and intelligent, there really was no fooling her. He'd learned that when she didn't trust him; no one trusts a lying git.

He doesn't really feel like answering - just waves his hand inexpressibly in the air before him and rolls his eyes. Jack's lips twitch briefly. He nods his head to the Suits, who understand his silent plea and step away from him, meandering aimlessly just a few feet away. Despite the discomfort, Hatter lets him lean closer to him, tolerates his pale hand on his shoulder, clutching the leather of his jacket. Ugh, it was his favorite. He closes his eyes briefly and releases a heavy breath, before he passes his annoyance and focuses a dull stare on Heart.

"I hope you're not about to heart-to-heart me. I'm really not into that whole guy-guy thing. Or you, for that matter," Hatter mutters, casting a bored gaze around the crowded room.

Jack smirks, but he doesn't look away. His eyes are wide and piercing, which wasn't helping Hatter feel more comfortable with his proximity.

"Why are you still standing here?" he murmurs, but Hatter just shifts away and shakes his head again, sighing sourly.

"Because Suits ransacked my place, so it's tanked. It's not like I have to haul ass back to it, because there's not going to be any business when I get there. Just a broken building and empty tea bottles."

He frowns slightly at this, hoping that he at least still has a little bit of Happiness stashed in one of his coat pockets. Surely they hadn't taken his jackets.

"All I'm saying is something is amiss," the blonde man says, before he pulls away from Hatter and extends a tilted hand. After a moment's deliberation, the two men are engaged in a manly handshake, firm and forced. Something _was_ amiss, though - what was that poking him in the hand? Was that coming from Heart's palm? His hand was quickly released, though, and Heart, accompanied by Suits, was swept into the crowd, out of Hatter's sight. He lowered his head slowly, examining the slip of paper in his hand, inscribed with only an address - a foreign address. In the very corner, in a calligraphic scrawl, was her name: _Alice._

His eyes jerk up, bewildered.

He shouts, "Heart!" into the crowd, but they only glance at him warily and continue on their bustle. The King is gone, the room is hot, and as he turns back to the reflective portal, he feels his body surged with energy, like he'd just had fresh Excitement. It only takes him two jogging steps until he's teetering on the edge, crushing the paper in his palm as he jumps into the gelatin glass.

While he's unconscious, he dreams. The Queen of Hearts had captured her, hidden her deep in the Hearts Casino, and he was on the hunt to rescue her before she could be beheaded. He knew he was almost there - he could hear her calling his name - when the scenes flashed before his eyes, and he was no longer in the dark and echoing hallways. Now he was a figure in the sky, cast over a shore, watching the waves wane in and out. He realized he was the moon, teetering wide and low over the tide. The glimmering sky caught the corner of his eye; he saw the horizon was bright there, a corner of the universe untouched by his dark and twinkling backdrop. He saw her face in the yellow glow, her glistening locks of hair in the radiant beams of light: his sun.

Despite himself, he felt compelled to follow her. He moved across the sky with sneaking grace, but her distance from him never shortened or became longer: they only remained in the same positions, chasing each other across the sky. It was so frustrating, chasing her, wanting to share his easy light and bask in her glory - he wanted her to _see_ him, to look at him and know what he was feeling, surely -

He awoke with a start in a dark alley, instinctively reaching for his hat, which had remained safely on top of his head. Pushing himself up on his hands, he adjusted his eyes to the sudden darkness and cast his gaze around the alley, automatically uncomfortable at not knowing his whereabouts and furthermore, the dark. After his eyes had focused in the blackness, he noticed the pale form slouched on the ground across from the Glass's exit, a sleeping girl in a blue dress. His heart leapt into his throat, pounding furiously - Alice.

After he had scrambled across the alley and rolled her onto her back, he saw that she wasn't injured, only unconscious - a side effect of reversing through the Glass. As gently as he could, he pulled her into his lap, cradling her in his arms while he gathered his strength. He was just about to stand up when a strange noise caught his ears, and something small and metallic suddenly struck him in the head; he searched the pavement for the offending object, curious when he found only a key with a white tag.

_In return for your shop,_ the tag read. Brow furrowed, he turned it over, and found another address. He noticed that the tag wasn't a tag at all - it was half of a playing card. Looking closely, he identified the card and rolled his eyes - the King of Hearts. Well, it was the least the blighter could do after all Hatter had been through to protect his damn girlfriend. Except, she wasn't his girlfriend anymore. He stole a glance away from the key, into the vulnerable face of Alice: Alice of Legend, Alice of Wonderland, Alice of this strange new world. His Alice. Hatter's Alice. He'd trade all the bottles of tea in the world just to be able to call her so.

Suddenly realizing he'd been daydreaming for far longer than was necessary, and that the unconscious girl in his arms needed some sort of medical attention, he pulled her into his arms, got to his feet, and set off to find help.

* * *

He wrung his hands in front of the door.

He was pacing, just a little, creating a rhythm with the tapping of his feet, the swishing of his pants, and the slick plastic squeaking of the new jacket he'd acquired from the apartment with the key he'd been given, presumably Jack Heart's. While he didn't like the cad, and thought him rather fickle and unable to trust, he had to admit that his taste in jackets was quite envious. His taste in hats, however, was not, but the new threads he had donned gave him a new boost of personality, and he had decided to leave the hat behind, but just this once.

Now, he waited. When he'd taken Alice to the hospital, they'd been too quick to admit her to really question him for any information. Shortly after they'd taken her behind the double doors, he supposed she'd woken up, and had been able to answer any questions about any emergency contact that he might not've, and of course, a few minutes later, a very frantic, older woman with the same kind blue eyes was rushed behind them as well. So he had waited, in his dirty, ripped clothing, wringing his hat nervously in his hands in a plastic chair; when the nurse that had admitted Alice lead the older woman into the waiting room and pointed him out, she rushed to meet him, enfolding her hands around his extended one.

"You must come over for dinner one night this week. I must properly thank you for your trouble and consideration," she gushed, after many thanks had been issued. He'd blushed profusely, hardly able to get a word in edgewise, until she'd tilted her head in that typical Alice way and looked at him.

So that's where Alice got her expressions. He bit his cheek from making such a remark, and quickly mulled over her question. To answer as 'Hatter' would be simply unacceptable, he could already tell - he already appeared as a loon, having showed up in a hospital in a city he'd never heard of with a pretty, unconscious girl in his arms. He thought of Alice, and being evasive. He eyed Alice's mother, wanting to believe that she could trust him. That he was capable of trust.

"David," he'd replied quietly, and her face instantly warmed. Bingo.

"Well, David, I'm Carol Hamilton. And this," she said, digging through her handbag to find a scrap of paper and a pen to write her address (which he already had, but he bit his cheek again) for him, "is our address. How about tomorrow night?"

He felt extremely paper thin, his nerves tight as drawn wires. He wanted to ask her if she'd woken up, if she was hurt in any way, if she remembered him.

"Is she alright?" was what he actually managed to say, much to Carol's surprise.

"Well, yes, I - did - do you know her, Alice?" she inquired, her head tilting back in a peculiar fashion. More Alice.

"No, uhm, no, I just - you know, you find a girl, and - well, I just didn't want there to be any - Alice, wow, that's a pretty name," he babbled instead, staring down at his hands, which happened to be strangling his hat. He winced at the damage he was doing to it, immediately releasing his hands, and the hat sprang back into full shape in his palms.

"Oh, well. As her mother, I'd have hoped, but of course, no worry. Only curiosity," she smiled kindly. He instantly thought of his shop, the exact bottle full to the cork and resting on a high shelf in his office, the liquid inside glittering and red. He felt like he'd just taken it: he wanted to ask her so many questions, yet he only bit his tongue. Carol clapped her hands together slowly.

"So, tomorrow, what do you say? We usually have dinner ready by six, so I'd say around that time, unless you have a previous engagement - "

"No," he said loudly, panicking slightly that she might retract her offer. "Tomorrow's as fine a night as ever. Six it is."

She smiled broadly, her eyes twinkling, and leaned over to touch his arm.

"Well, I'm off to see her. Thank you, so much, once again. I suppose we'll see you tomorrow evening," she said, before turning on her heel and rushing back into the hall, leaving him standing, his heart pounding furiously, in the starch white of the waiting room.

Now, he stood in her apartment hallway, waiting for the courage to come to him to raise his knuckles to the wood and rap sharply. Every time he had lifted his hand, though, his mind had better ideas, and his arm would fall, gelatinous and weak. The door itself seemed so wide and looming, the peephole in the panel like the pupil of a giant eye. Watching him. What if she saw him, and she was appalled? What if she didn't even remember? He hadn't really the stomach to have come this far, only to have the woman not remember him. He sucked in a panicked breath, shaking his head. He really wished he had that Courage.

No, that was silly. Of course she remembered him. Wonderland wasn't really a place someone could only imagine, and Jack Heart - or Chase, as his mail read - wasn't part of her imagination. If she'd have woken, she'd remember him first, and then hopefully the whole adventure. It would just make sense.

Yet, what if this was all some joke? What if she really _didn't _remember? What if Heart had failed to mention some kind of memory lapse on having Oysters pass back through the Glass? Was it some kind of cruel joke, and he was just the victim?

His face blanched as he stared at the door. Behind its paneling could be a sweet heaven or a sore hell for him, but he wouldn't know until he knocked.

"Oh, blast," he muttered under his breath, lunging at the door to strike his knuckles twice against it. The loudness shocked even him, and he prayed he didn't seem so eager. He missed his hat.

He could feel the floor's vibration of the person approaching the door from the other side, and heard a light voice raised slightly, but the words weren't discernable. With his heart in his throat, he watched the knob turn and the door fell open, revealing Carol Hamilton in khaki slacks and another warm smile.

"David!" she exclaimed. "Right on time. Come in, come in, you must meet Alice, she's been dying to thank you. Alice!"

Carol's voice carried down the hallway, but just the name ringing with it made Hatter's heart pound much faster than it had been. He could feel sweat on his brow: this was the defining moment. This was it. Either she wanted him or she didn't, and he was about to find out, just as soon as -

"Hatter?"

The voice carrying his own name suddenly pierced him, and he found himself pulling his eyes up slowly, almost timidly. He could feel a heart attack coming on, and vaguely recalled his own words to Ratty about Excitement - a drop too much and his little heart would explode. He hadn't even had any Tea lately, and he already felt like just that was about to happen.

"Hatter!" she cried, launching herself down the hall. The relief he felt rolling off of him cleared the ache in his throat, and he was able to gently croon her name as she fell into his arms.

"Hatter? Alice, what on earth - " Carol had began, but he already had her in his arms, and she knew him, just like he knew she would, so answering her mother didn't seem so important. She still smelled the same, like flowers and fresh air, and her eyes hadn't changed, as they were still glowing with the same spark and excitement he'd seen in them before.

"I missed you," he whispered, and just saying it to her felt right, _so_ right, with her arms wrapped around him. _Now_ was the right moment, the changing luck, the tie off of every loose end he had felt since he'd watched her fall through the Glass. He pulled her closer and dove for her mouth, throwing caution to the wind. Under the miracle that ensued and the astonishing stare of Carol Hamilton, he kissed her with every fiber of his being, every truth he wanted her to know, for every second he'd been without her. In the hazy backdrop of his mind, he felt her warmth around him, her mouth against his, the smile that curved to match his own and he pulled her tighter still. He made no immediate move to release her, either, although Alice's mother had finally broken her dismay into words.

"What is going on here!" she cried, and Alice regrettably broke their kiss, turning to her mother with a smile.

"Mother, this is David Hatter. To explain how I know him would be a long story, and to explain why I love him is longer still."

"But - Jack Chase, and - he just _proposed_ to you Alice - you're already seeing someone else?"

Carol looked a little pale and slightly winded. Alice grinned cheekily.

"Mom, just - stop thinking. Don't worry about it. I don't feel like looking anymore," she murmured, peering up at Hatter shyly beneath her eyelashes. The showing of teeth that graced his face put her own grin to shame.

"Oh, mercy," Carol muttered to herself, before slowly inching up the hallway, grabbing her purse, and reaching for the door handle. She gave them one last curious, hopeful glance, before she propelled herself beyond it without so much as a good bye and snapped it shut.

He couldn't stop looking at her. Even dry, even in normal clothes, even without the immediate threat of danger, she was every bit as beautiful in her world as she had been in his. And now, he thought, he had all the time in the world to hold her hand, to touch her face, without any breathing Suits, lying Princes, Mad rabbits or beheaded-obsessed Queens to stop him. It was just a battle of she and him, now, and perhaps her mother.

He finally pulled his eyes from her to jerk her back to him, enfolding her tightly in his hold while he skimmed his mouth warmly over her neck. The hands clutching the lapel of his jacket tightly told him he was on the right track, and the chase of happiness at her own joy ran through his body. He nibbled her ear and touched her hair, listening to the sigh of pleasure he heard escape her lips.

"I missed you," she murmured, pressing her lips to any expanse of skin she could find. She slowly pulled his jacket from his tangled arms, closing her eyes at the contact of his mouth against hers.

He laughed against her lips, drawing her fidgety arms behind her back and holding them there, forcing her to press her body hotly against his.

"I'm quite positive I missed you more," he chuckled, nibbling her bottom lip playfully. She spun, suddenly, out of his tight hold, ending up standing before him with his hands clasped in hers between them. The quickness of her movements both surprised him and made his body pound in heartbeat.

"Maybe I should show you," she whispered, before presenting a rather Cheshire-like grin and pulling him down a dark hallway by his wrists; needless to say, he was helpless to do anything but to comply.

As the dark swallowed them, her white grin still remained, like a beacon, filling his heart and clouding his mind. His body was already tingling with the excitement of so many new emotions, but he was sober. He decided he didn't _need_ tea anymore - she kept him mad as rabbits all on her own.

-_fin _


End file.
